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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MIRANDA MORGAN, by QUEENE B. LISTER
First Line: She listened to the click
Last Line: Who whistled like a bird.
Alternate Author Name(s): Ryan, E. P., Mrs.
Subject(s): Family Life; Relatives
First Line: She listened to the click
Last Line: Who whistled like a bird.
Alternate Author Name(s): Ryan, E. P., Mrs.
Subject(s): Family Life; Relatives
She listened to the click
Of the front picket gate.
John would close it slowly --
It would slam -- if it were Nate.
She pinned an oleander flower
In her hair. . . .
Nate would take the sofa --
John would take a chair.
She looked at a portrait
That hung above the organ
And met the eyes
Of her grandfather Morgan.
A horse's hoof-beats
Slowed at the gate. . . .
She wished it wouldn't have to be
John or Nate.
She glanced at the squareness
Of her grandsire's chin
And wished she wouldn't have to say
"Please step in."
Miranda understood
What each one would do --
What each one would talk about
What each one knew.
John would still be planning
To clear the southeast half --
Nate would 'low he'd mabey
Sell a heifer-calf.
The gate didn't click.
She tired of waiting --
Only a night-bird
Sang of mating.
She walked across the parlor
And out to the veranda
Where she heard her name whispered,
"Miranda, -- Miranda -- ?"
* * * * *
The gate stood open --
There was only the sound
Of faint padded hoof-beats
On distant ground. . . .
Neighbors often wondered
What she saw or heard
In a half-breed Indian lad
Who whistled like a bird.
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